


At Last

by FanOfManyThings91



Category: Elder Scrolls, Oblivion - Fandom, Skyrim
Genre: Family, Gen, Parent-Child Reunions, Warm Family Fuzzies, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winterhold, father-daughter bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanOfManyThings91/pseuds/FanOfManyThings91
Summary: It's been years since Ocato's assassination at the hands of the Thalmor, but thanks to the workings of a drunken necromancer, he has been reunited with his love and her son.  Now, it's his chance to finally get to know the daughter he never got the chance to see grow up.  But, will the fears of both Anaya, his daughter, and Ocato ruin their chance at a happy reunion?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place 200 years after the Oblivion Crisis, and requires an explanation as to how certain characters got there. Caroline Lavon, the Champion of Cyrodiil, and her family were sealed away in a magical stasis for 100+ years to escape the series of assassinations lead by the Thalmor. Ocato ends up being resurrected by drunken necromancer and has been trying to adjust to life since. Thanks to my friends taciturn-metronome and the-pumpkinpatch-witch, as well as rainsong777 for this lovely commission piece that finally inspired me start writing this whole fic series. Check it out --> http://rainsong777.deviantart.com/art/Commission-At-Last-637983176?q=RainSong777%2F50959193&qo=0

It was another cold day in the northern region of Skyrim.  As the sun reached its height in the sky, a small flurry of snow drifted lazily across the ground.  The wind rustled through the small snowberry bushes, and whistled through the various icicles clinging to the mountainside overhead.  Save for an occasional wolf passing traversing the snow, the only souls present were an Imperial man and an Altmer woman.  Both were dressed in worn furs securely wrapped around their armor, which clanked heavily as they walked.  _Shouldn’t be too long to Mother’s_ , thought the Imperial man, _Wonder if she’s making that stew Anaya likes?_  

 

As he thought, he turned to the elven woman, who was still fidgeting with her hood and fighting the wind.  He reached into his side pocket, pulled out a long, clean rag, folded it into a triangle, and motioned for her to stop.  She stopped and glanced over at him, noticing the cloth in his hand.  After a moment, she finally realized what he was hinting at and wrapped the fabric around her face, shielding most of her face from the bitter winds coming from the Sea of Ghosts.  They continued further down the path towards Winterhold, and spotted the thatched roofs from the buildings ahead.

 

“How much longer do you think we have, Thomas?” the Altmer said, breaking the silence between them. 

 

He played around with the numbers in his head before finally settling on an estimate.  “Maybe another ten, fifteen minutes until we hit the front of town.  Holding up well, Anaya?”

 

“Me?  Oh yeah, it’s just this hood.  I can never get it to stay tucked in…”

 

“I meant about meeting him.”

 

“That?” Anaya questioned.  Thomas gave her a skeptical look, as all older siblings do.  “Oh yes… _that_.”  She began to rub her neck and avoid eye contact with her brother; Anaya had hoped that her anxiety wouldn’t have been so obvious.  “Do you think he’ll mind?  Do you think Ocat- _father_ , will be disappointed in me?”

 

“Why would he be disappointed?”

 

“I’m an elf.”

 

“And?”

 

“I’m not a mage.”

 

“And?”

 

“And he and mother are exceptional mages, and I’m not.  And…And I used to be a werewolf!”

 

 “And?” Thomas asked a third time, his voice rising slightly.  Anaya stood in place and remained silent, unable to answer him.  He rested a hand on her shoulder, looked into her eyes, and said, “He’s not that kind of elf.  Mother wouldn’t have married him if he was.”  She turned her head away, with her brother leaning closer toward her.

 

“I know that,” she responded as she acknowledged her brother’s logic, “it’s just, after all this time, after everything the family’s been through…I mean, never knowing and always wanting to…and, and then, being able to…I mean, to have the _chance_ …”  She sighed as she drifted off, returning to her brother gaze.  “I just want things to go right for once.”

 

“They will.” Thomas replied warmly, hoping to soothe his sister’s fears.  “I’ve known and met a lot of people, just as you have.  Many were friendly, fewer were genuine, but I have yet to meet anyone as honorable as him.  He helped our mother raise me when he could, and he knew who my father was.  Never treated me differently for it either.”  He paused, thinking about his own father, Martin Septim, and waited for his sister to respond, but could tell she wasn’t fully convinced.  “Give him a chance, and I promise, you’ll wish you would’ve been able to know him earlier.”

 

She dropped her shoulders and sighed, “Alright.  I’ll try.  I’ll try to be…positive…And it’ll be fine—no, it’ll be great." Thomas brought his sister in close and hugged her from the side, catching her murmuring “it’ll be great,” under her breath.  Time would prove him right, he thought to himself.  If not, well, their mother could be scarier than any Dark Brotherhood assassin, including Uncle Lucien or Aunt Jane.

 

They continued along the path, with a familiar, savory smell coming from the Frozen Hearth Inn.  Unfortunately, this was quickly replaced with smells of burnt flesh and the sight of Nelcar, who was partially on fire, running for his life and away from the innkeeper’s wife.  Neither Thomas nor Anaya could make out what was being said—shouted, really—but at least they were happy to be in town.  They walked closer towards the College of Winterhold, passing several Imperial legionaries preventing a half-charred Nelcar from being mauled by an angry Nord woman carrying a meat cleaver.  The two siblings finally approached a house hidden on the edge of town, and that looked much newer than the other homes.  On the porch of the house stood an older, human woman, dressed in thick, worn furs, and carrying a sizable load of firewood.

 

“Mother!”  Cried out Anaya as she ran up to hug her mother.  Their mother smiled as set down the logs and kissed the both on the cheeks.  She then pulled them into a group hug and kissed them again.

 

“It’s so good to see you both again, and it’s a good thing you both got here when you did.  Judging from the weather and the clouds, I’m betting we’re gonna have a snow storm later.”

 

“It’s Winterhold, when isn’t there a snow storm looming around here?”  Thomas chuckled as he replied, picking up the logs his mother set down.  She looked upon her eldest child and smiled, though it was bittersweet.  _So much like Martin,_ she thought.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Anaya shifting nervously and eying the door.

 

“Well, no point in standing around, not unless you want frostbite.  The stew is almost done and the fire’s going.  Anaya?”

 

“Yes, mother?”

 

“Are you okay, dearie?”  _If only she could’ve seen the pep talk I had to give her father.  Of course, it also didn’t help that she first saw him as a fully resurrected being at the heart of a necromancer’s nest.  Without pants, no less._

 

“Yeah, yeah.  It’s fine—I’m fine.  No need to worry,” Anaya stammered out, trying and failing to reassure her mother.  “He’s in there, I assume?”  Her mother nodded and opened the door.  Anaya took a deep breath and looked to Thomas for reassurance.  She waited to go inside as her mother and brother went through the door, fighting the urge to run.  _No, I can do this._   _I won’t be rejected.  I won’t be rejected.  I won’t be rejected…_

As she stepped through the door and closed it, the scent of spiced beef stew and warm ale hit her.  She looked around and didn’t see her father.  Their mother called out, “Ocato, they’re here!”

 

“On my way, Caroline.  Just a second!” Ocato replied from the other room.  _Gods, why am I so nervous?_ He stared at the mirror for a moment and then looked away.  _It’ll be fine.  It’ll be fine.  We’ll be a family, just like we were always meant to be.  What we always wanted to be…_

He straightened himself up and put on a calm demeanor, just like he had done a thousand times before when he served the Septims.  Except, this wasn’t for an empire; _this was for his daughter_.  Ocato walked towards the living room where everyone was, hoping that the nerves would calm down.  By this time, Thomas and Caroline had settled in.

 

Thomas placed the logs by the fire place, then sat down to take off his boots, while his mother went into the kitchen to fetch some bowls.  Anaya stood awkwardly, and then looked at her father as he entered the room.  She noticed his brown hair that had streaks of grey in it, his red robes, and the brown eyes and golden, Altmer skin that they both shared.  The room fell into a brief silence.  Sensing the uneasiness between the two, Thomas stood up to greet and hug the man whom he called and knew as father.

 

“It’s good to see you again.  I trust all is well in Winterhold?”  Thomas asked.  Ocato, grateful for the break in the silence, nodded.

 

“Once you learn to accept the never-ending snow, and the mage down the street who nearly tears a hole into existence every other week at the Frozen Hearth, it’s quite the quaint place to live,” Ocato joked.  Anaya chuckled, easing her nerves and walked towards him.  Their eyes met again, though some of the anxiety had faded.  “I trust all is well with you, Anaya?  Didn’t get too much snow stuck in your armor?”

 

“Not too much, though I think it’s safe to say I already miss Whiterun.  At least you could see the grass there.  And it’s warmer...” Anaya responded, drifting off.  She moved closer and hugged him, catching Ocato off guard.  After a moment, he realized that he hadn’t returned the gesture and hugged her back.  Caroline turned to her son, who was watching and grinning as his family became whole, but they both knew the day was far from over.  Silence returned to the living room.  Anaya and Ocato finally let go and faced each other again, wondering what to do next.

 

“Well, I bet you would like to rest awhile.  I would imagine it’s been a long trip from Whiterun to here, and a cold one at that.”  She nodded and began to take off the various layers of fur coverings, boots, and her heavy, steel gauntlets.  As she did, Thomas and Caroline went about their business.  He took off his armor and placed it by the fire to dry and began helping his mother with the table, just as he always did, and noticed a small patch of blisters on both of Anaya’s hands.

 

“When did that happen?”  Thomas asked his sister.  _I thought she wrapped her hands properly?_

“Oh, that?  No idea.”

 

Caroline peered over at her hands and immediately knew what caused the blisters:  improper sword grip.  Anaya did always use a death grip on her battle-axe.  She reached over to the alchemy cupboard and started to make a quick salve.  Ocato stared at his daughter in confusion.  “Anaya?”

 

“Yes, father?”

 

“Do you normally get blisters on your hand?”

 

“Not really.  I think some snow got in there and rubbed my hand the wrong way.  Why?”

 

“You do know you can heal yourself, right?”

 

Caroline paused and Thomas stood in place, neither daring to move.  She had completely forgotten to tell him about Anaya’s… _misadventures_ with magic.  Thomas, though he had already proclaimed his confidence in Ocato, was now on high alert.  Thanks to his numerous years in politics, Ocato immediately picked up on the fact that something was amiss.  “I’m sure it just slipped your mind, dear.  Next time—“

 

“It didn’t slip my mind,” she countered with an uncharacteristic edge to her voice.  Anaya caught herself and recovered, “I can’t do magic.  At all.”

 

“What do you mean, at all?  Just about anyone can do a simple healing spell—“

 

“Not me.  I usually end up causing more problems than fixing them.”  Now he was completely lost and turned to his wife for an explanation.  Caroline began to kick herself for not saying anything earlier.

 

“What she means is that she ends up doing the opposite of what she wants to do.  Mother and I have tried to teach her, since healing potions aren’t always an option—“

 

“But to no avail, I presume?” Ocato finished as he turned back to his daughter.  She looked down at the ground in shame.

 

“I set the neighbor’s chicken on fire one time trying to cast a healing spell.  And then I completely froze my hand trying to do a fireball…and then sliced my hand open trying to cast _another_ healing spell.”  _Gods, out of all the times to get blisters…I’m going to kill Vilkas when I get back._

Sensing he hit a sore spot, Ocato began to think of a way to smooth things over.  He looked around for something, anything that could help.  He noticed a single septim coin reflecting the fire’s light on the end table.  _Hmm, maybe, just maybe._   Ocato picked up the coin and said, “Catch.”  Anaya fumbled the coin in her hand, but managed to secure it.  It was warm to the touch and soothed the blisters on her hands, but she was perplexed at what just happened. 

 

“A coin?  I don’t understand.”

 

“Let me ask you something.  How did you catch that septim?”

 

“What do you mean? I just caught it,” she responded, confused as to what was going on.  Her brother and mother were equally as lost.  Anaya felt like this was a trick question on five different levels.

 

“But you thought about the exact angle and direction you needed to move your hand, right?”

 

“No…?” 

 

“Well, did you at least think about how to curve your hand to catch it?”

 

“No,” Anaya replied with more certainty. 

 

“Well then, how did you catch it?” He paused and waited for her to respond.  When she stood, gaping at him in sheer confusion, he continued.  “Oh, I know!  You simply calculated the speed of the coin and how fast you need to move you hand all in your head.  That’s how you did it.  Ah, such a smart girl your mother raised,” Ocato finished as he smiled. 

 

“Not even close.”  She was right where he wanted her.

 

“So what’s your secret then?”

 

“I just saw it and caught the thing.  Nothing special about it.”

 

“Exactly, though I wouldn’t say there wasn’t ‘nothing special about it,’” he countered.  Ocato moved towards Anaya to close the gap, both in distance and understanding. 

 

“You see,” he began, “too often we try to over complicate things, not just magic and spell casting, when they really are just as simple as reaching out to grab a coin tossed at you.  Sometimes, _just believing_ in something is all you need to make it possible.  Yes, magic takes a considerable amount of discipline and effort to master.  But if you always imagine yourself failing, then you’ll always do that, because it’s all you can see yourself doing.”

 

“Then what about all the times when I was younger?”

 

“Think about those as if you kept missing the coin being tossed at you.  You just didn’t develop the skill when everyone else did.  And trust me, anyone would be discouraged.  In fact, let’s try something.”  Ocato moved a step closer toward Anaya and held her hands out.  They were red and looked irritated, but nothing that she couldn't heal.  Caroline and Thomas, who Anaya and Ocato had completely forgotten about, watched in anticipation and hoped that this worked out for both of their sakes.

 

“Now, I’m going to hold your hands steady.  When I tell you, I want you to close your eyes and just imagine you healing yourself.  Don’t worry if you hurt yourself; I’m right here.”  She nodded, remembering what she said to Thomas earlier that day:  _I’ll try to be positive.  It’ll be fine.  It’ll be great.  It’ll be fine…_

“Now.”  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  Anaya imagined a warm, glowing orb in her hands easing the pain of her blisters, which slowly receded into her skin.  After a moment of nothing, a slight hum and glow appeared from her hands.  Caroline stood in disbelief, almost dropping the bowls in her hand, and Thomas moved closer to his sister, ready to jump in if needed.  Ocato glanced in his direction, making him stop where he was; he was right, Anaya needed to do this on her own.  Her blisters began to slowly heal and the orb radiated heat, and she opened her eyes to see what was happening—

 

Disbelieving her own accomplishment, Anaya began to panic but stood frozen in place.  She started to shake and jerk slightly, but Ocato steadied her hands.  “Keep it up, you’re almost done.”  He pulled his hands away and helped her sustain the magic from afar.  Bit by bit, her hand gradually returned to its original golden color until the blisters were gone.  Anaya sustained the spell and looked to her father for guidance.  “You can let go of it now,” he said softly.  She released her spell and the warm orb faded away, leaving only a pair of healed hands and her mother and brother in shock.

 

“I…I did it.”

 

“Yes.  Yes, you did.”

 

“But it’s the only one I can do.”

 

“Maybe,” Ocato conceded as he rocked his head back and forth slightly, “but maybe not.  And if it is, it’s certainly more than what you could do before.”  He moved as close as he could and placed both of his hands on her shoulders and gently smiled.  “It’s natural to always want to do more than what has just be achieved, but never forget the progress you’ve made.  Even if it’s just taking a step.”  He hugged his daughter tightly, forever grateful he was able to share this one moment with his daughter—no, his _family_.  At last, he was able to be the husband and father he always wanted to be with his love, Caroline.  At last, Thomas and Caroline had their family together as a whole.  At last, Anaya finally believed that her father was the man she had always been told he was.  And at last, things went right for once.


End file.
